When my turn to get a massage comes. My friend remarks that I look as if I was on my way to the guillotine with no executive clemency possible. The masseuse is a heavy breasted woman with a waist so small you'd think she's invertebrae. She promptly instructs, or rather pantomimes me to take my clothes off, including my underwear. I just hate it everytime I melt into a doddering idiot, and when marooned in a room with a girl with passable looks and a breast big enough to supply People's Republic of China milk for a year with a little left for some small cheese industry, I get weak on my knees and instantly becomes religious (oh god, please oh god..heavens, holy trinity). She then slathers me with inordinate amount of oil that is remisnicent of my grandma's El Shaddai cure all ointment, If the universe is trying to send me a message, can I get a second transmission?5 minutes through being caressed with brother Mike Velarde's wonder oil. The masseuse seductively whispers "byoo-tee-froo" while scratching her mammary glands on my backside. This is when I become a saint waiting to be canonized. My piety shoots past the kingdom of God. I think I also admonish the Hindu Gods.
She grabs my butt and you know whatelse. And you perfectly know that it takes all the forbearance in the world to say no. My friend, getting under the impression that something 'epic' is going on inside, shouts in near panic voice:
"Dude!! Say no! Whatever it is, just say no! If you did, I'll call your mom and tell her that you screw a whore with a madcow disease!"
Inside, I start sweating buckets, while the masseuse is trying to examine my anatomy. I even make it out when she says that everything will be for free, that she just happens to like me. Inside my head, the devils are doing the conga again while the angels demurely watch while bonking at my conscience singing in unison "Gonorheaaaaa...la la la la, Syphillissss, ta doom, ta doom.. A-I-D-S!". This is when I start to think of the long term effect of this seemingly exciting and kinky encounter. 1. if I had a go, chances are, my family jewel will just rot and eventually drop off. 2. Syphillis? gonnorhea? AIDS? Yes my angels, I can hear you quite well 3. My character and dignity, How can you ever respect a person who mates with just about everything that bleeds for five days?, I dont mean to sound prudish but the proposition, however tempting, is just plain dirty and lowly.
I told the girl that I have had enough of her massage, gave her a hefty tip bigger than the actual service fee (for her massage and for punctiliously studying my anatomy, kidding.) and thanked her.
We manage to get out alive, my friend, with a newly pedicured and slightly bloody nails, and me, with new admiration and assurance from knowing that I learned something new about myself- I have a penis and a brain, and in the face of extreme sinful indulgence, I know how to use them both.
We forgot about the free accommodation and both agreed that a nice, decent hotel with a hot bath wouldn't hurt, and besides, after all what happened, I was badly in need of a personal, private space to recollect the misdaventure in that dank and dark cubicle..Simply 'byoo-tee-froo' *wink
